


Somebody Catch My Breath

by Fallen_Angel_Meg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Angst, Cancer, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hospitals, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8844457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen_Angel_Meg/pseuds/Fallen_Angel_Meg
Summary: Life is unpredictable. Castiel realized this when what was thought to be pneumonia turns out to be a rare, childhood cancer. But he also learned life's unpredictability isn't all bad when his stay in the hospital leads to him meeting Dean Winchester.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Supernatural Prompt Challenge [November 2016]  
> Theme: Nature  
> Prompt: Flowers

Castiel hates this place.  
  
Most other eight year olds might be envious that he can watch TV all day and not have to go to school, but he despises every minute of it. He hates being too weak to walk around or do much anything but lay in this hospital bed all day, wondering how an innocent doctor’s visit for pneumonia spiraled into this – progressively becoming a permanent fixture of this hospital. He’s beginning to worry he might never get to go home. Not clean, that is.  
  
Dr. Winchester’s confident Castiel’s on the road to recovery, but then why is he still sick? It’s been two weeks since his surgery, six since he started chemo, so why isn’t he showing any signs of improvement? Why aren’t his cell counts improving? Why can’t he ever take deeper breaths than the shallow ones he’s limited to now? The doctors may be optimistic, but Castiel’s not. How can you be when your body’s trying to kill itself?  
  
“Stop glaring at your Jell-O and eat it already or I will,” Gabriel teases next to him.  
  
Castiel glares at him. “Then eat it. I’m not hungry.”  
  
Gabriel rolls his eyes. “You have to eat, Cassie. You’ve barely touched your dinner and breakfast.”  
  
“It all taste like metal. It’s disgusting,” he wheezes, sparing enough energy to push away his tray of untouched food for emphasis.  
  
Gabriel sighs. “I’m gonna have to tell Mary you’ve been making me lie for you if you don’t at least try.”  
  
Castiel’s eyes widen. “Gabriel, please don’t. They’ll stick a tube in me or something.”  
  
His brother leans over to push his food tray closer. “Then eat. I’m serious, Castiel. I’ll tell them.”  
  
“Tell who what?” A feminine voice asks, making both Castiel and Gabriel jump. The friendly face that Castiel’s come to know too well approaches him, flipping through his chart and writing down his vitals from the ever beeping monitor beside him.  
  
“Um, nothing!” Castiel says quickly, ignoring the way Gabriel smirks at him. He knows he can be a terrible liar sometimes, but he must be a little good at it if he’s managed to fool the nurses the past few meals. Thankfully, Gabriel pipes up before his lie can linger in the air too long.  
  
“Cassie’s been thinking of sneaking out of bed to take a walk today. Dr. Winchester, please knock some sense into him.”  
  
Mary chuckles, still focused on recording her notes in his chart. “Gabe, I told you to call me Mary. And to you, Castiel, if you can stand on your feet then I’ll make an exception and let you walk the route. Other than that, I’m afraid your body won’t be up to handling what’s outside this room.”  
  
Castiel only pouts a little. “I guess that’s fair.”  
  
Finally, she turns her attention to him and asks the same question he gets asked way too many times a day. “How are you feeling?”  
  
He smiles at her. “Better. I’m more awake than I was yesterday.”  
  
A snort sounds behind Mary from Gabriel. “And grouchy. Is that that a side-effect of the cancer or the chemo, Dr. Mary?”  
  
Mary clicks her tongue disapprovingly at Gabriel, giving him a stern look before turning back to Castiel. His stomach clenches nervously when she eyes his food. “I thought the strawberry Jell-O was your favorite. Did breakfast not sit well today?”  
  
Castiel chews on his chapped bottom lip and shrugs. “Breakfast was fine. Gabriel’s been distracting me from eating.” Lies, lies, lies.  
  
“I am not!” Gabriel huffs and Mary turns to look at him again, eyebrows raised expectantly. “Castiel’s refusing to eat – ate nothing of his last two meals. Tell him what he’s doing isn’t helping him get better.”  
  
Mary’s mouth falls open, sliding her eyes back to him. “Castiel, is that true?”  
  
He shoots Gabriel an angry glare before looking up at Mary, shame washing over him. He shouldn’t have lied to Mary. She’s been nothing but nice to him, trying to make him better, and he’s throwing it all back in her face. He looks down at his lap. “Yes.”  
  
She sighs, jotting down the new information in his chart. He hates that chart so much. “Look,” she says when she’s done, sitting on the edge of his bed though he still can’t bring himself to look her in the eyes. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But I do know that it’s not easy in the slightest. I know you want to be better and go home, but if you don’t tell us these things we won’t be able to help you. Then you’re stuck here even longer. Please promise me you won’t lie about this stuff anymore.”  
  
Castiel glances up at her, a motherly stern-ness set in her features that Castiel never knew before coming here. He nods though, as much as he doesn’t want to. “I promise.”  
  
Mary pats his hand softly before getting to her feet. “A nurse will be back in a few hours to check in. Make sure you eat all of that food. And Gabriel,” she turns to him next, “you can’t lie for him anymore. One lie costs too much, and I don’t think either of you want to pay the price of it. Are we clear?”  
  
They both nod solemnly and Mary smiles approvingly at them before disappearing from the room. Onto the next sick kid. Castiel folds his arms, going back to glaring at the Jell-O and soup waiting patiently on his tray. “This day keeps getting better and better.”  
  
Gabriel leans back in his chair, giving Castiel a curious look. “I thought this morning was fun. We finally watched the new _Star Wars_ movie!” Castiel shrugs. Sure the movie was good, but his watching experience could’ve been even better had there not been something missing. “Ohh, I see now,” Gabriel says and when Castiel looks up at him, there’s a wide grin stretched across his face.  
  
Castiel furrows his brow at his brother. “What?”  
  
“You’re extra grumpy today because your boyfriend didn’t visit you,” Gabriel teases.  
  
“What? That’s crazy, Gabriel. Dean is not – he has nothing to do with anything. I didn’t even notice he didn’t - Have you ever thought that maybe you’re just annoying me?” Castiel sputters, embarrassed of how guilty he sounds. He attempts to save himself by grabbing his cup of Jell-O and stuffing a spoonful of it in his mouth.  
  
Gabriel’s grin widens even more. “Wow, Cassie. Protest much?”  
  
Castiel rolls his eyes. “Leave me alone. Besides you, everyone else but Dean is too scared to see me. Even Dad doesn’t like visiting. Is it so bad to be disappointed when Dean doesn’t come when he usually does?”  
  
“First off- Dad’s an asshole. Secondly, there’s nothing wrong with that, but I’m just saying, there’s a pattern to when you get all flustered and blushy. Dean Winchester so happens to be the common factor. Lucky for both of us you haven’t hit puberty yet.”  
  
That makes Castiel start coughing on his Jell-O, a pain erupting in his chest and the strain makes his lungs work even harder to take in the little air they barely get now. He’s gasping desperately for oxygen, panic starting to seize his body when it doesn’t come in the amounts he needs. Gabriel scrambles to his feet to quickly secure a clear mask around Castiel’s face and starts squeezing the attached bag every so often to fill Castiel’s lungs. If Castiel wasn’t trying to avoid suffocating, he’d think how sad it is that his brother, barely a teenager, has had to do this several times already since he’s been diagnosed. It only takes a few squeezes before Castiel pushes the mask off his face, taking shallow but adequate breaths on his own.  
  
“Sorry, Cassie,” Gabriel murmurs, guilt heavy in his eyes.  
  
Castiel smiles tiredly at him, though he’s beyond embarrassed he had a mini episode over his brother mentioning how Castiel tends to be around Dean. “It’s not your fault my body’s broken. But I think I’m going to take a nap. I promise I’ll finish eating after, but I… I can’t right now, Gabe.”  
  
Gabriel nods, still looking worried. “Sure. I’ll be here when you wake, okay?” Castiel nods, turning his head away from Gabriel and pulling the sheet up farther on his body. His eyes fall on the variety of flowers lined along the windowsill, hoping their magic powers work to make him feel better like they usually do. He’s annoyed though when the colors start to blur as tears prick at the corners of his eyes.  
  
He just wants to be better again.  
  


*****

The sound of music gradually pulls Castiel from his dreamless nap. He’s still exhausted from his earlier excitement, but when is he not these days? He cracks open his eyes, blinking them a couple times to get used to the brightness of the lights as he registers the song playing is _Behind Blue Eyes_. As he attempts to prop himself up, something catches his attention from the corner of his eye. He turns his head, mouth dropping open at the sight of the beautiful, pink flowers fountaining from the glass vase they’re propped in.

“Hey, Cas.” The voice next to him makes him jump slightly, but a smile automatically pulls at corners of his mouth as he meets glimmering green eyes.

He hopes his blush isn’t too obvious on his cheeks. “Hello, Dean.”

“Sorry I was late today. Dad got called in for an emergency repair at the shop so Sam and I had to go to work with him first before he could drop me off.”

Castiel nods, honestly not even caring that Dean was late. He’s just glad he came at all. “That’s okay. Gabriel kept me entertained. Where is he anyway?”

“He’s at the cafeteria trying to get some cheerleader with a sprained ankle’s number, but he told me all about it. _Star Wars _, huh? You’re turning into quite the little geek, aren’t ya Cas?” Dean winks at him.__

Castiel bites his lip to hide his smile. “Funny coming from one himself.” Dean chuckles, and Castiel takes a moment to watch him, chest feeling lighter at the sight. He could watch Dean laugh all day. Before he can be caught staring too long, he returns his attention back to the flowers. It’s become Dean’s thing to bring flowers whenever he visits – which if the overflow of vases on his windowsill is anything to go by, it’s quite frequently. “These are new. What are they?”

“Camellias. I didn’t have time to look up what they mean, but Garth the flower guy was excited about ‘em so I decided to try something new and hope they don’t mean bad luck or anything,” Dean explains, that little glitter of mischief to his eye. Castiel grins, admiring the delicate looking petals. They almost look like roses, but not quite. “Do you like them?” Dean murmurs, and when Castiel glances back at him, he finds Dean with lowered eyes and rosy cheeks.

The corner of his mouth twitches, staving off yet another blush. “They’re beautiful, Dean.”

Dean meets his eye, smiling shyly before hopping to his feet from his usual chair, bringing the vase to the windowsill to reside with the others. “Enough about flowers though. Gabriel told me about this morning.”

Castiel’s heart drops into his stomach. He never likes when Gabriel talks to Dean because it usually means he’s embarrassing Castiel in some shape or form. Would Gabriel be cruel enough to tell Dean about his little episode, an obvious result of his stupid crush? “Oh?” is all he can manage to say.

Dean turns back to him, nodding with a serious expression replacing the lightness in his eyes from a moment ago. “Cas, buddy, you gotta eat.”

He can’t help the small sigh of relief that escapes him. Gabriel took pity on him today. “I know, I know. But-“

Dean shakes his head, cutting Castiel off as he crosses the room back to his bedside. “No but’s. I got you some fresh soup and you’re gonna eat every drop or else I’m telling my mom and she’ll make an intern stay in here and spoon feed you.”

Castiel sighs but nods reluctantly. When it comes to Dean, he’d pretty much do anything anyway. Though, the threat of having one of those squirrely interns keeping him company isn’t exactly appealing either. Dean grins triumphantly and pulls the lid off the cup of soup, the steam ghosting into the air and aroma of it starts to make Castiel nauseous. Pushing past it, he holds out his hands to take the cup from Dean, but Dean just stares at them. Castiel’s about to make some sarcastic remark before Dean looks into his eyes.

“Scoot over.”

Castiel scrunches his eyebrows at him but complies, sucking in a shallow breath when Dean actually climbs in beside him. When Dean situates himself, he finally looks at Castiel, seeming embarrassed all of a sudden. “Is this okay?”

A smile pulls at the corner of Castiel’s mouth and he makes an effort not to be too animated in his response. “This is fine.” Dean smiles, a soft one that makes Castiel’s heart flutter. He dips the spoon in the broth, blowing softly on it before feeding it to Castiel.

The way the warm liquid slithers down his throat makes Castiel shudder – it’s like swallowing liquid metal - but nevertheless, he opens his mouth in a demanding fashion for Dean to give him another spoonful. It provokes a laugh from Dean, which makes it all more bearable.

“Relax, Mr. Bossy Butt. Let’s take a breath before having another, huh?”

Castiel rolls his eyes and does the best dramatic inhale and exhale he can, though the wheezing makes it rather pathetic.

“That’s better,” Dean says with a glitter to his eyes before feeding Castiel another spoonful. They do that until the cup is drained and Castiel even manages to finish the yogurt Dean brought at well. Thankfully, Dean doesn’t return to his usual chair beside Castiel’s bed. Instead, he crawls back into the same spot after getting up to put in a movie. Though they’re not as close as Castiel would like to be, it’s enough that he drifts off to sleep feeling monumentally better than he did this morning. And before everything goes dark, he briefly wonders if it’s possible the mere presence of someone can heal more than drugs ever could.

**Two Months Later ******

“What do you think they’re gonna say?” Gabriel asks aloud, breaking the silence they’ve been sitting in. Castiel stays quiet, pulling his blue knitted beanie on over his bare head. He hates having it off, the evidence of his deteriorating body apparent to everyone, but they made him remove it for his scans.

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine,” his father says distractedly while he concentrates on his phone.

Gabriel scoffs. “Keep telling yourself that, Bartholomew.” His father flashes him a warning look at the disrespectful tone, but Gabriel hardly cares. He’s stopped calling their father ‘Dad’ for a month now.

“Please don’t fight,” Castiel sighs. He’s not sure what’s worse – when Bartholomew actually shows up or when he doesn’t. Probably when he does because that means something is wrong and perhaps Castiel’s last moments are around the corner.

Just then, the door opens and in comes the stream of doctors, more than usual. It’s Mary, the pediatric attending, followed by Tessa, a resident and three interns that Castiel sees occasionally, though he can’t remember their names.

“Hello, Castiel, Gabriel, Mr. Novak,” Mary greets warmly, but he already knows it’s bad news. That’s the tone Mary uses when something’s wrong.

“Well? What did the scans show?” Bartholomew asks, a hint of impatience to his tone. That’s right - he was supposed to be in a meeting for work before Mary called him in to talk.

Mary’s jaw tightens minutely before turning to one of the interns. “Why don’t we start with reviewing Castiel’s situation.”

The intern nods, as if they’ve been given some great task and straightens up as he talks. “Castiel Novak. Eight years old. Diagnosed four months ago with Type II pleuropulmonary blastoma. From the original scans, we started him on chemotherapy in hopes of shrinking the mass before removing it with surgery, but the location was compromised and we were unsuccessful in extracting it.” Castiel wants to roll his eyes, having heard this speech too many times to the point where he can recite it himself, but he holds his tongue and listens to the rest of intern’s spiel. “We’ve continued to monitor his progress and his cell counts have been holding steady until they dropped drastically this morning. Castiel’s recent scans show the mass around his right lung has grown and the diagnosis has been upgraded to Type III PPB.”

That catches Castiel’s attention. He’s… He’s getting worse.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what? How is that possible?” Gabriel demands. “He’s been doing chemo for months now! You guys said it would shrink the tumor, not water it and make it grow!”

Mary nods calmly. “I know, Gabriel. We were hoping that the less aggressive treatment would be enough to shrink the tumor, but unfortunately, it’s stronger than we thought.”

“So what do we do now?” Bartholomew asks in irritation.

Tessa takes a small step forward. “We would like to schedule Castiel for surgery as soon as we can – preferably tomorrow. His tumor is dangerously aggressive. Its location prevented us from safely removing it the first time, but we must take further action if we want to prevent it from metastasizing to other parts of his body. The surgery is extremely risky, but we fear the cancer will soon spread to the tissue surrounding his lungs and his brain. If the surgery is successful, we’ll start him on a strong treatment of chemo to clean up the rest.”

“But either way, Castiel could die.” The way Bartholomew phrases the question is more like a statement. He thinks he should be hurt by it, but at this point, he’s not surprised. His likelihood of survival was never above 50%. He knew this was the road he was truly headed down the day he needed a permanent nasal cannula to feed him the oxygen his pathetic lungs couldn’t take in themselves anymore. Every day, he feels more and more tired despite sleeping most of his days away and even when he’s awake, there’s that ever present pain in his chest.

“What?” A new voice blurts from the doorway, and even though the doctors are crowded around his bedside, Castiel knows it’s Dean.

Mary whips her head around to stare at her son along with everyone else, the interns moving just enough that Castiel can see him standing in the doorway with a vase of white flowers clutched in his hands. “Please explain the surgery. I’ll only be a moment,” Mary says to Tessa before setting her eyes on Dean, marching forward to spin him around and guide him into the hallway, the door closing behind them.

Tessa dives into explaining how the procedure works, but Castiel’s not listening to a single word. Instead, his attention is focused on listening to Mary and Dean argue outside his door. He can barely hear what they’re saying.

_“Dean Winchester, what did I say? You were supposed to wait until after two to visit.”_

_“I don’t care. Why do you let them talk about Cas like that? He’s not just broken parts those idiotic interns poke and prod at. He’s more than words on a chart, Mom.”_

_“I know that, Dean, but I have to put my feelings aside right now so I can help Castiel the best I can. And I suggest you watch your attitude because you will not disrespect me at work. I’ll call your father and he will come pick you up. Understand?_ ”

If they’re still talking, it’s in quieter tones Castiel can’t hear, but a minute later Mary is walking back into the room with a noticeable lack of Dean, which is disappointing. “So how are you feeling about the surgery?” she asks, glancing over the three of them with that calm façade once again.

“It seems the surgery is our only option,” Bartholomew mutters.

Gabriel flashes their father an irritated glare before sighing, looking to Mary next. “Do you honestly believe this will give him a fighting chance?”

Mary glances at Castiel, a sadness cracking that professional mask she was wearing. “I don’t know. I don’t want to give you false hope, but I do believe that at least with the surgery, he’ll be given a chance he wouldn’t get without it. Even if we can remove a little bit, it’ll be that much less he has to fight against.”

Castiel swallows dryly at that. The thought of fighting more is too exhausting, let alone needing to recover from yet another surgery. He’s tired of imagining his life outside this hospital, happy and healthy while each day that passes makes it less and less likely. He’s tired of being disappointed. He’s tired of hoping. He’s just tired.

“I don’t want it,” he finds himself whispering. All eyes in the room immediately snap to him.

“What?” Gabriel breathes. “Cassie –“

“Gabriel, you can’t understand how it feels,” Castiel cuts him off hoarsely.

“Castiel, you’re not saying you’re giving up,” Gabriel growls, stalking to the side of his bed to glare down at him. “Don’t you dare say that. Not when you’ve made it this far.”

He sighs, mostly because nowadays talking leaves him breathless and dizzy, but doesn’t respond. He catches Mary’s eyes, which are glassy, before she looks away. “I’ll give you time as a family to think about it, but please don’t wait too long. If you truly don’t want it, we will respect your wishes and explore other treatment options – but we wouldn’t have suggested the surgery unless we had no other choice.” With that, Mary leads the other doctors out of the room, leaving Castiel with Bartholomew and Gabriel.

“The chemo is making your head foggy. You’re not thinking straight,” Bartholomew says. Castiel wishes he had the strength to roll his eyes. Gabriel does it for him though. Just as Castiel opens his mouth to respond, Bartholomew’s phone comes to life in his hand. “This is work - I have to take it. By the time I get back, you better have talked some sense into him, Gabriel,” he says before answering the call and leaving the room.

Somehow, Castiel thinks how wrong it is to be relieved to have his father leave, but he is. He’d rather not have him here at all, like the other 90% of his time here in the hospital. Gabriel scowls after Bartholomew but looks relieved too. “Please, Cassie, just think about it. Don’t write off the surgery yet. This could be your turning point.”

The inner conflict makes Castiel’s stomach churn – though he can’t help but imagine it’s because of the cancer spreading there – and he’s lost on what to do. He wants to fight, but each day is more torturous than the last. He’s simply watching himself wither away to nothing and… would it really be so bad to not live in pain anymore? At least without the surgery, he’ll have a little more time before he goes.

“Cas? Can I come in?” A quiet voice asks from the doorway, stealing Gabriel and Castiel’s attention. Seeing Dean with the vase of white flowers brings a faint smile to Castiel’s lips.

“Of course,” he answers, wishing it sounded as enthusiastic and strong as it did in his mind.

“You had quite the entrance there, Lover Boy,” Gabriel teases, but it’s half-hearted as best.

“Yeah well,” Dean starts, cheeks flooding with pink, “So what’s the deal with the surgery? When is it?”

Gabriel snorts. “Ask him yourself.”

Dean scrunches his eyebrows at Gabriel before glancing at Castiel expectantly.

He lowers his eyes. “I… I don’t know if I want it.”

Dean’s quiet for a long moment before one pained word escapes him. “What?”

Castiel licks at his chapped lips, but his dry tongue does no good to wet them. “Gabriel, can I have a minute alone with Dean?”

Gabriel nods, clapping Dean on the shoulder as he passes. “Please knock some sense into him, Dean-o.” Dean says nothing though and Castiel can feel his eyes still on him. Even after the door clicks shut, the thick silence stretches all around them. When he peeks up at Dean, he regrets it immediately. The confusion and hurt is like a punch to Castiel’s gut.

“Come here,” he rasps, ignoring the pain building in his chest. Dean doesn’t hesitate to place the vase of flowers on the side table and crawl into bed, careful not to yank on any of his tubes. Castiel wishes Dean would scoot closer, but he understands why Dean’s keeping more distance than usual “Dean, if I get this surgery –“ he pauses to catch his breath, pushing past the increasing pain that’s coming from the strain, “I need you to be prepared that I won’t wake up after tomorrow.”

Dean flinches against the words as if he was slapped across the face. “Why would you say that?”

Castiel sighs, provoking a cough fitting that he winces and whimpers from and through it, Dean grabs his hand and holds it tight. When he settles, Castiel gazes up at him, feeling all sorts of embarrassed. “When they cut me open the first time, they couldn’t remove the tumor from where it was without me dying on the table. Now, they’re taking the risk they didn’t dare take before. Why do you think that is, Dean? Because I’m a casualty waiting to happen, so what do I have to lose? But why not enjoy however long I have left?”

Dean swallows thickly. “Don’t say that. You’re gonna wake up and you’re gonna be fine.”

It breaks Castiel’s heart to hear the cracked ferocity of Dean’s voice and he tries to give his hand a comforting squeeze. It’s all he can really offer at this point. “I at least want you to know how much meeting you has helped me. I enjoyed our time together greatly, Dean and -” he has to stop to catch his breath, which is starting to come quicker, “I want to thank you. For everything.”

Tears make Dean’s eyes glassy as they look away to rest on the white flowers. There’s a long moment before he pulls them into his lap. “I saw these at Garth’s little stand and didn’t even think before I got them. They’re exactly the ones I wanted to give to you,” he murmurs, staring at the petals that make the flower resemble a rose-like star. Castiel can’t help the barely-there smile that tugs at his chapped lips.

“You always pick the best ones.”

Dean nips at his lip shyly. “I’ve been looking for these ones to give you ever since I found out what they mean.”

Castiel weakly lifts his hand to brush his fingertips against a soft petal. “And?”

Dean takes a careful breath. “They’re Gardenias. The white means purity and - I know you hate your body because of what it’s doing to you. But you’re not broken, Castiel. You’re pure, and that tumor inside you doesn’t change that. You can’t let it win.” Castiel’s shallow breath catches in his throat, nearly making him start coughing again – though the pain worsens at trying to stifle it. “But they mean something else too. It really sucks that we met at a hospital, but I’m glad we did because – you’re really important to me, Cas. You’ve become my best friend and… I don’t know.” Dean trails off, his blush darkening.

“Dean,” Castiel whispers breathlessly, mostly because taking too deep of a breath hurts too much and his shallow breathing has sped up, but Castiel has a feeling where Dean’s going with this.

“No, I gotta say this because – you can’t throw in the towel. I like you a lot and I can’t say goodbye yet. Please don’t make me have to say goodbye yet, Cas,” Dean’s voice shakes, a lone tear escaping the corner of his eye. “Please – please stay.”

Castiel closes his eyes, whimpering quietly as tears squeeze from between his eyelids. Though they aren’t from Dean’s words – as much as they make him want to cry from pure emotion. No, this is pain. Castiel’s chest feels like it’s being squeezed together while lit on fire, his breath coming out in labored gasps. Something is very wrong. He tries to tell Dean that much, but he can’t form words as panic starts to overcome his body. He can’t breathe. And everything’s excruciating.

“Cas?” Dean asks, voice getting shrill with alarm. Castiel reopens his eyes to stare up at him, weakly trying to grab at Dean. For what? He’s not entirely sure. Maybe for life. “Cas!” Dean cries, scrambling off the bed to hit the emergency call button, not caring how the vase of flowers in his lap goes crashing to the ground and shattering.

“What happened?” Gabriel demands as he rushes back into the room and straight to Castiel’s side, though it’s difficult to hear over the sound of his struggles to breathe and the blaring of his machines.

“He can’t breathe! He needs help,” he faintly hears Dean explain just as Mary runs in followed Tessa and a few nurses, shoving Dean and Gabriel out of the way.

The world is starting to fade around him. The edges of his vision darken, his hearing fading along with it as a metallic taste spreads across his tongue. The only sensation he can really feel is the pain raging in his chest. He knows he’s still shuddering and gasping as a nurse takes hold of his shoulders and steady him while Mary performs her quick tests. He can barely hear her saying his name but he can’t respond.

When he turns his head, he catches sight of Gabriel through the bodies surrounding him, crying out with Dean standing frozen next to him. Castiel only sees those fearful green eyes for three seconds before everything goes dark.

But he’s not gone yet. Castiel feels as if he’s miles away from everyone in the room, every sound like a fading echo around him. He can hear Mary call, _“Intubate him and page OR one to be prepped! We gotta take him up now!”_ He can hear Gabriel sobbing. He can hear Dean pleading to no one in particular. The angry voice of his father, the crunch of glass under shoes, the nurse order them all to leave. He even hears every distorted word of that medical jargon passed between Tessa and Mary as something cold and metal slides deep into his mouth followed by a thick tube that snakes down his throat. But louder than all of that - he hears his own silence.

And then everything is just… silent.

**18 Years Later ******

Dean rolls over on his side, chest still heaving from the incredible sex he just had as he listens to footsteps pad out of the bedroom and into the bathroom to clean up. It’s dark, but he can still see the outline of the white flowers sitting on the dresser from across the room. His chest tightens, wishing he didn’t let himself look at them. Those flowers hold too much emotion. It’s especially a downer after all the fun he just had.

This day is always hard. No matter how much time’s passed, it’s still hard to remember what happened eighteen years ago in that hospital room. The images are all too vivid in his mind – the dullness in those blue eyes when he first entered that room, that microscopic smile that lit up his face at the sight of the Gardenias even though it looked like it took all his effort, those agonized whimpers and choked gasps that filled the room shortly after, how the silence that followed was even worse.

Dean remembers every single, goddamn detail.

He wishes he could forget it all. But then again, he’s bought those damn Gardenias every year since that day. So maybe he really doesn’t want to forget, as painful as those memories are. There’s a reason he does this every year. A reason he wants to remember.

The bed creaks behind him, cold air caressing his body as his husband climbs in beside him before shrouding his back with warm skin pressed against him. “You’re not thinking about it, are you?”

He can’t even deny it. “Yes.”

There’s a small sigh. “Don’t you think it’s time to leave it in the past?”

Dean scrunches his eyebrows together, unsettled by the question. “How can you say that?”

“Because it was a long time ago, Dean. What happened, happened.”

An ache grows in Dean’s chest and he tosses the covers off his naked body, shuddering against the chilled air as he shifts to sit on the edge of the bed. He runs a hand through his sweat dampened hair, guilty for ruining the good evening. He’s not sorry though. “Do you know how scary it was? To be eight years old and watch someone who means so much slowly die? To be so powerless to take the pain away? How – how can I ever forget that?”

The covers shuffle and a moment later, strong arms are wrapping around him as a kiss is placed against his neck. “I’m sorry.”

Dean swallows thickly. “You could’ve died, Cas. I… I could’ve lost you.”

Cas gently turns his head so that their eyes are locked together. “But you didn’t.”

Dean lets out a shaky sigh, nodding. It’s ridiculous this day still affects him so strongly because it’s not like he was the one with the gigantic tumor in his chest. But seeing someone you love go through that and then thinking you may have witnessed their final breath – it hurts to even consider how different this day eighteen years ago could’ve turned out. How close he was to actually losing one of the most important people in his life. Dean lifts his chin to press their lips together, all but melting back into Cas’ body.

“You weren’t powerless though, Dean. You eased the pain more than you know,” Cas murmurs against his lips. Dean pulls back to give him a questioning look, but Cas slides his eyes away. He follows the gaze to where it rests on the Gardenias and snorts.

“Are you trying to say the flowers I brought healed you?”

Castiel grins. “Perhaps not in the medical sense, but they helped. You brought me happiness the day we met. But it really meant something when you showed up again the next day with that single Lilly. I may not have known how long I was going to live, but I knew that you’d come back to me with more pieces of hope to put on my windowsill. No one else gave me that but you, Dean.”

Dean feels a lump form in his throat. He may not believe he did anything, but if Cas says some flowers he brought helped him through it, then who is he to question it? Dean kisses Cas again, too scared to say anything right now without breaking down like an emotional sap.

Cas smiles against his lips, pulling Dean towards the middle of the bed and back under the covers, careful not to break the kiss. When they break apart, Dean rests their foreheads together. “You better not pull that shit on me again.”  
  
A laugh rumbles out of Castiel’s chest. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

Dean grins, caressing his fingers up and down Cas’ side as he loses himself in those eyes he loves so much. “I love you, Cas.”

Cas snuggles up under Dean’s arm, fitting himself against his side like a puzzle piece and placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I love you too, Dean.”

Dean’s heart swells, smiling to himself as Cas yanks the blankets up higher on their bodies. Then he does what he does every single night. He listens to Castiel’s breathing until it evens out with sleep. It’s honestly one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard – to hear those lungs inhale and exhale as flawlessly as they should’ve always done. That’s the reason he remembers this day. Not only to remind himself of what he almost lost, but what he has now. What he will continue to hold onto as long as he can.

**Author's Note:**

> This is super late and I'm so sorry. Hope you enjoyed it <3  
> [My Tumblr](http://blissfulcastiel.tumblr.com)


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